


Heart Don't Fail Me Now

by frek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, First Kiss, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, Time Travel, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6019611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finds himself in the forest with no memory of his life before that moment. Derek discovers him and helps him find himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Don't Fail Me Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bleep0bleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/gifts).



> Pretty much anything post S2 is ignored. Dates used are mostly guesses, bc Teen Wolf and timelines are a headache. 
> 
> This was written for the wonderful bleep0bleep. I'm sorry this has taken so long to come to fruition, but I truly hope you enjoy it.

Everything was bright. Light so blinding that Stiles was certain white was the only color he'd ever see again. So bright that it was almost _loud_. Or maybe it was actually loud. Like the wind of a hurricane rushing past his ears, joining in the din of a hundred car horns blaring around him. So much sound that Stiles' mind couldn't actually process it as anything more than noise. He couldn't even tell if his own voice had joined in the fray. His mouth was open, but if he was screaming, he couldn't tell.

It went on for what felt like forever. Blinding light and deafening sound blotting out every one of Stiles' senses until he couldn't remember anything but this moment. And then just as suddenly as he was sure it had started, it stopped.

The silence that followed was just about as deafening to Stiles as the noise that had preceded it. His ears were ringing, but that was the only sound he could discern. For all he knew he actually had lost his ability to hear. And when he opened his eyes, he had half expected to only see darkness - or maybe the bright white he had seen before he had closed them. But when he finally looked around, he was surprised to see himself in the middle of the woods. The ground was covered with an undisturbed layer of brown, dead leaves, the trees around him still green and full. It was almost as if everything Stiles had just experienced was only his imagination.

As Stiles took in the world around him, the almost too vivid colors of the forest, the bright greens of leaves and blue of the sky peeking through the canopy, the sounds suddenly rushed back in. He wanted to cover his ears, to try to blot out the cacophony of sounds, the birds chirping and cawing around him, the sound of leaves rustling, the wind blowing through the trees, and the footsteps that were coming closer from somewhere behind him.

Stiles moved to jump to his feet, wanting to face whoever may be coming up on him. As he moved, though, his legs wobbled, his foot turned, and he found himself falling back to the ground. Except instead of the feel of the ground meeting his body, Stiles felt strong arms wrap around him, cradling him as he was lowered gently back down. Stiles looked up as he resigned himself to his current situation, wanting to thank whoever had caught him. He immediately felt his face flush as he took in the sight of the guy whose arms were wrapped around him. He was beautiful, pale eyes, dark hair, and the barest hint of stubble along his jaw.

"Are you okay?" He asked Stiles as he released his grip on him, much to Stiles' disappointment. His voice was softer than Stiles had expected and he couldn't help the thought that he wanted to hear him talk more. Forever maybe.

"Oh yeah," Stiles smiled, attempting to play it cooler than he felt. "It's not every day you can say you literally fell for someone when you first met."

That got a smile from the guy and Stiles felt even more smitten, if that were possible. His smile made Stiles' heart skip in his chest and he found himself wanting to know more about this mystery guy. Everything, if he could.

"What happened?" the guy asked, his cheeks tinged pink thanks to Stiles' shameless flirting.

Stiles blinked, confusion in his face as he suddenly realized he had no idea what had happened to bring him to this moment. There was noise and light and then he was on the ground in the middle of the woods. What had he been doing last? Why wasn't he at home? And more importantly, where was home? "I..." Stiles paused, panic starting to rise in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe let alone talk. "I-I don't know..."

His mind was racing, trying to piece together the moments that led to this one, the bright white light that had engulfed him, the wall of sound that accompanied it. For all he could remember, those were the only things that had made up his life. Instinctively, he knew that there had to be _something_ before that, events that led to it, a life outside of it. But he couldn't remember a thing. Stiles felt tears sting at his eyes, his chest tightening as the panic that had been threatening to take over finally did.

Stiles' breath was coming in short gasps as his mind kept replaying the same thoughts over and over. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know where he came from. He didn't have anywhere to go. He was alone-

Except he wasn't.

Gentle hands slid over his shoulders and down his arms, soothing and calming in the way they touched him and guided him to lean back against the warm body of the guy he had just met. His soft voice was near Stiles' ear, murmuring soothing words and phrases, easing the tightness in his chest as if by magic. And just like that, the panic attack had subsided, leaving Stiles feeling even more drained than before. He let out a long breath and relaxed against the guy, not even caring that they had just met, that this was likely an imposition on his goodwill.

After a few minutes had passed, the guy spoke again, his hands stilling on Stiles' shoulders. "How are you feeling?"

Stiles took a breath, sitting up and away from him despite the urge to press closer. "Better," he said, turning enough to face the guy. "Thank you."

The guy shrugged. "It's nothing. I'm glad to help. Do you get them often?" He shifted to sit cross legged, facing Stiles, not bothering to get up just yet.

"Sometimes, it depends," Stiles said, trying to figure out how he could remember that but nothing telling about his life. "I'm Stiles, by the way," he added, but left it at that. Frustratingly, his last name eluded him.

"Derek Hale," Derek said. There was a pang of familiarity to the name, but Stiles couldn't place it. He pushed it aside for now. Derek offered Stiles a small smile and Stiles felt his heart flutter. "So you don't know what happened before you showed up here, do you remember anything at all?"

Stiles tried to search his mind, where he knew his memories ought to be. But nothing came to him except the vaguest of recollections. He sighed, shaking his head. "Nothing specific. I remember going to school, but can't tell you where, or even who my teachers were. If I try to remember something specific, my mind sort of clouds over. Like my last name..."

Derek nodded as Stiles spoke, as if it all made perfect sense. Stiles wish it did. How could he have forgotten everything important to himself? "You're on my property," Derek said after a moment. "Well, my family's property. We own a large part of the preserve here. I was walking when I heard you screaming."

So he was screaming after all. "I hadn't realized I was screaming," Stiles said, his voice quiet. "There was so much noise, I couldn't hear anything else. And so much light, it felt like I was blind." He chanced a glance up at Derek and caught the way he was being watched, as if he were a puzzle to be worked out.

"I didn't see or hear anything else, just your screams," Derek offered unhelpfully. It only made Stiles more confused about what had happened. They settled into a silence for a few minutes, Stiles' gaze focused on the leaves on the ground between them as he tried to piece together anything else he could drag from his memories. Everything he tried to reach for, though, seemed to vanish in his grasp. After Stiles had sighed for the third time, Derek spoke up again. "Come on, let's get you back to my house, at least. My aunt is a nurse, she can take a look at you. Maybe you had a concussion?"

Derek stood up and offered a hand to Stiles who readily took it, helping himself to his feet. His legs felt shaky beneath him, but he was able to stand, which was better than he'd been doing before. Small victories, Stiles thought. He took a couple tentative steps and found that he was able to walk, though he felt weak and unsteady.

"Here," Derek offered Stiles his arm to hold onto for support. And normally, Stiles would feel embarrassed to have to hold onto someone like this, but Derek had already helped him through worse. He took Derek's arm and held on as he led Stiles through the woods toward the house he had spoken of. "You're lucky, right now most of my family isn't home," Derek said as they walked together. "You'll miss out on the full scrutiny of everyone at once."

"Thank god for small miracles," Stiles said dryly, casting a sideways glance at Derek when he laughed. 

"It'll probably be my mom and aunt home right now," Derek continued. "And maybe my older sister, Laura."

"They're not going to be bothered by you bringing strangers in from the woods?" Stiles asked as he caught sight of the house ahead of them, situated perfectly in a clearing.

"Nah," Derek shook his head, but didn't elaborate. Stiles wondered if he made a habit of dragging in strays.

As they neared the house, Stiles saw the front door open, as if they had been anticipating their arrival. Out stepped a woman, Derek's mother, maybe? Stiles could see the family resemblance, the dark hair and pale eyes. She had a commanding presence about her as she watched the two boys climb the stairs, as if she ruled over more than just her family. Stiles felt like it would be a bad idea to ever get on her bad side.

Derek helped Stiles up the stairs and into the house as the woman followed behind them, closing the door. "And who do we have the pleasure of meeting today?" She asked as Derek guided Stiles to a chair at the kitchen table before sitting across from him.

"Mom, this is Stiles," Derek said, motioning at Stiles. "I found him in the preserve."

"Just Stiles?" She asked, watching Stiles closely, as if she could see the lies Stiles might choose to tell.

"I..." Stiles started, feeling any confidence he might have had wilt under her intense gaze. "I can't remember my last name... Or much else really."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "Stiles, I'm Talia," she said, her voice softer than Stiles had expected.

"I was thinking Aunt Rose could take a look at him?" Derek asked, pulling Talia's gaze away from Stiles. "He said that he can't remember anything. I don't know if a concussion can cause memory loss, but it's a start?"

Talia nodded, looking over at Stiles again, clearly examining his head for any visible injuries. "And we probably should keep an eye out for any missing persons reports. Call the police station tomorrow if he doesn't remember anything." She seemed satisfied with her examination and turned back to Derek. "And you've never met him at school before? You look to be the same age."

Derek shook his head. "I haven't." He shot a glance over at Stiles, his cheeks pink as he continued, "I would have remembered him if I had."

Stiles felt his own cheeks warm in response, Derek's gaze making it clear what he meant by his words. "Your name... Hale. It sounds familiar," Stiles spoke up, looking between Derek and Talia. "But I can't remember ever actually knowing it or hearing it before, if that makes sense."

"It's unusual to have your memory missing in such a way," Talia said, taking a seat at the table with them. "But it's not unheard of."

Just as Talia had settled in, another woman walked into the room. "Rose," Talia said. "This is Stiles. We were hoping you could take a look at him, check for concussion?"

Rose nodded her hello to Stiles. "What happened?" She asked the trio seated at the table.

"He doesn't remember," Derek spoke up.

"Pretty much anything," Stiles added.

Rose frowned but stepped up to Stiles, "May I?" She reached out to touch his forehead, but waited for Stiles' consent before brushing her fingers over his skin. She moved from there, brushing his hair aside, examining his scalp for any outward signs of injury. It took several moments for her to finish, but once she did, she pulled a flashlight from a hook on the wall. "Okay, I just want you to look forward, please."

Stiles nodded, doing as she said as she shined the light in his eyes. It felt like forever, but soon enough she was done. "Well?" He asked, curious to know what she saw.

"No signs of concussion that I can find. Do you feel tired at all?" She asked.

Stiles started to shake his head but paused. "I mean, I do, but that's because I had a panic attack when Derek found me." He spoke of the familiar exhaustion that followed one of his episodes.

Rose frowned again. "There isn't anything that I can see that would cause such substantial memory loss," she said, glancing over at Talia.

"So what, then?" Stiles asked, glancing around the room. "I just magically lost my memory?"

The sudden stillness in the room told Stiles all he needed to know. "Really?" He asked, sounding more excited than he actually felt. "Do you think? Like some sort of spell or supernatural thing?"

"I'd ask you what you know, Stiles," Talia said, letting out a soft breath. "But I doubt you could even tell me, could you?"

"You mean like werewolves and banshees and stuff?" Stiles' nonchalance seemed to surprise the Hales. It was weird the things he knew instinctively but couldn't remember how or why.

"Yes, precisely," Talia said, her voice cautious.

"I know they exist, but I couldn't tell you how I know or I guess who I know..." Stiles said, his voice trailing off with frustration at his missing memory. "It just, feels familiar? Like maybe my friends or family..."

Talia just nodded, not offering Stiles any other information. She looked over at Rose. "I'll research the books here in our library, but maybe you can contact Deaton and Marin and see if they have any other ideas about what could cause this sort of memory loss?"

"I'll get right on it," Rose said, turning to Stiles. "If you remember anything that might be helpful, let us know, okay? We'll see what we can do." She waited for Stiles to nod before heading out of the room to presumably handle her tasks.

Talia stood up and patted Stiles on the shoulder gently. "I know this is difficult for you, but we'll get things figured out, I promise." She paused, glancing out the window at the slowly setting sun before turning back to Stiles and Derek. "Why don't you check Stiles' pockets, see what you can find. If he has anything useful, let me know."

Stiles nodded, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid for not having thought of this sooner. He immediately shoved his hands in his jeans pockets as Talia left the room, pulling out what he could find, a wallet, cell phone, and a crumpled piece of paper. Stiles set everything on the table and started with the paper, opening it up and smoothing it out. He and Derek leaned over it and looked at it together. On the page were written coordinates along with a hastily scribbled note - _Anomaly. Check out ASAP._

"That's not very helpful," Stiles sighed, setting that aside. "What sort of anomaly was I looking for?" 

"It might help us narrow down what happened," Derek said, picking up the page and looking it over again before replacing it on the table. "Let's look at your wallet."

Stiles picked up his wallet and was met with his smiling face on a California driver's license. "Przemysław Stilinski?" Stiles said, somehow instinctively knowing how to pronounce his first name. "I guess Stiles is a nickname?"

Derek looked over at the ID and frowned before reaching out to take it from Stiles. "2013?" He asked, his brows knit together in confusion. "Is this a fake?"

Stiles looked at the ID again as Derek held it. It didn't look fake to him."Why would it be fake?"

Derek pulled out his own driver's license and showed it to Stiles. "I just got mine this year."

Stiles took it from Derek's hand and looked at the issue date and suddenly felt sick. Could he have time traveled? Is that even possible? "2003," he said, trying to fight back the panic that was hitting him all over again.

Stiles couldn't focus on anything but the date on the license, knowing full well what was on his. He knew the date was right on his ID. Derek further confirmed this by pulling a couple of dollar bills from Stiles' wallet with dates of 2006 and 2012 on them. "How?" Stiles asked, taking one of the bills and looking at the date. 

"Maybe there's some more information on your PDA?" Derek asked.

"PDA?" Stiles asked, confusion clear on his face. That was old technology, nobody had used them in years.

Derek motioned to Stiles' phone and it dawned on Stiles. They didn't have smart phones in 2003. "That's my phone," Stiles said, his voice worn. He picked it up and turned it on, swiping the screen and staring at the number pad. He sighed. He didn't know the passcode. He said as much to Derek before dropping the phone back on the table. It was useless without it.

Stiles looked back at his own ID and felt another wave of panic rush over him. If he really was in his past, that meant he didn't have anywhere to go. His own family already had him, a seven year old him. Nobody would be looking for him here. He was nobody. And if he couldn't find a way back to his own time, how would anyone even know what had happened to him?

Stiles' chest grew tight again, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. But once again, Derek was there, warm hands on his shoulders, smoothing along his arms as he spoke and murmured soothing words to him. It was like Derek was healing his body, his mind, with his touch. And just like that something clicked. "You're a werewolf aren't you?" Stiles asked, feeling Derek tense behind him at the question. "You can take pain with your touch."

Derek was quiet for a moment before he returned to the gentle touches that had helped Stiles so much. "I am," he said, clearly deciding not to deceive Stiles. "You remember our gifts?"

"Some," Stiles confirmed. "It's not all there, but I know about your magic touch," he said, wiggling his fingers suggestively. 

Derek laughed, and Stiles could almost see him blush in his mind's eye. Stiles continued, "I know some can shift into a wolf and others can't. And that you can heal quickly."

"You're right," Derek said, finally releasing Stiles from his touch, much to Stiles' disappointment.

"Do you think I might know you?" Stiles asked, turning to look up at Derek who was sitting behind him. "Future you, I mean. Obviously we don't know each other right now."

Derek appeared to be in thought for a moment before finally nodding. "If you live in Beacon Hills and know werewolves, then you must know our pack. This is our territory."

Stiles sighed, relaxing into the chair as the idea sunk in. He wasn't panicking anymore, thanks to Derek, but he had a lot to figure out. Namely how he got here and how to get home. And how to not screw anything up while he was here. Honestly, he was sure he was handling things pretty well considering he was apparently dropped into the past without a memory.

"Come on," Derek said after a moment, picking up the items Stiles had left on the table. "We should tell Mom what we've figured out."

Stiles climbed from the chair, his legs no longer weak like they were before. He wondered if it was just Derek's abilities that had helped him, or something more to do with him. He didn't have much time to focus on that train of thought, though, because they were very quickly stepping into a small library in the back of the house. The walls were lined with shelves absolutely packed with books both old and new, a large antique desk sat in the middle of the room with Talia seated behind it, a few books stacked before her.

"Mom," Derek said as they stepped up to the desk. "We found a few things that might help." He handed Talia Stiles' ID and money, along with the piece of paper with the coordinates and note.

Talia's face tightened into a look of confusion as she looked at the ID, her eyes settling on the dates. She quickly picked up the money, eyes searching out the same numbers that Stiles and Derek had focused on already. "How is this possible?" She asked, glancing up at the boys. 

"If I could tell you, I would," Stiles said, sighing. "I'm as lost as you are. More so, considering..."

"So you've never heard of something like this happening?" Derek asked, frowning.

"I mean, there have always been legends and stories, but I had always assumed they were just that," Talia said. "But if they're actually true, then that opens a whole new world of possibilities." Talia, picked up the piece of paper and studied it for a moment before dropping it on the table and crossing the room to map posted on an empty piece of wall. She traced her finger along it until she settled on a spot. "Derek, come here, tell me is this where you found Stiles?"

Derek stepped up beside his mother and looked at the spot she was pointing at. He nodded after a moment. "Yeah, right about there, so there might be something there that sent him here?"

"It's possible," Talia said, taking a push pin from another spot and putting it into that one. "I'm going to talk to Rose and then call Deaton and Marin. If there is something about those old stories, they'll know. I hope."

"I can take Stiles with me to that spot again and see if there's anything we can find in the meantime?" Derek offered.

Talia shook her head. "Not now, it's getting dark. I'd rather you stay in for the night and go out tomorrow to look when the sun is out."

"I can handle myself out there," Derek said, his tone bordering on argumentative.

Talia turned to Derek then, her eyes flashing red for just the briefest of moments before fading. "What did I say?"

Derek seemed to back down immediately, his shoulders sinking as he nodded, stepping away from his mother. "Okay," he said, his voice defeated.

"Take Stiles upstairs with you and see if you can make a space for him in your room for the night. I'm going to make some calls then start dinner. I'll call you when it's ready," Talia instructed, taking a seat back at the desk and picking up the receiver of the phone.

The pair left the library and Derek led Stiles up the stairs to his bedroom. Derek pushed open the door and Stiles looked around as they stepped into the room. There were clothes scatter around, a shelf of books on one wall, sports posters and trophies displayed on one wall, a desk with an old computer tower and monitor, and a sloppily made double bed shoved to one corner. Stiles didn't know what he was expecting, but the fact that the room was so typical made him feel more comfortable in Derek's space.

"I think there's a roll out cot in storage I can bring in here, if you want," Derek said, kicking some of his clothes to one corner of the room to make space for the cot. 

"That'll be nice," Stiles agreed. "Is there somewhere I can get sheets and blankets?" He asked, wanting to do something.

Derek directed Stiles to a hall closet while he disappeared to find the cot. Stiles found it easy enough and started pulling out the things he'd need for the night, when a moment of deja vu hit him. Of him doing just this, but in a different house, somewhere smaller and cozier and familiar. But just as quickly as it hit him, it was gone and he was back in Derek's house, pulling his sheets out for himself. Stiles stared at the flowered sheets in his hand and just focused on the memory, trying to ween something useful from it. Anything. But the memory was unimportant, just a fleeting glimpse into the life he had before he was sent back in time.

Stiles sighed and turned back to Derek's room, closing the closet door behind him. He set the pile of linens on Derek's bed and sat beside them while he waited on Derek to return. He must have been lost in thought, because he never heard him come in until Derek was standing before him, talking. Stiles blinked and looked up at Derek, catching sight of the cot folded up behind him.

"Everything okay?" Derek asked, concern coloring his features.

Stiles nodded absently. "Yeah, I just... I had a sort of memory while getting the sheets out. It was just me doing the same thing, but somewhere else, somewhere that felt maybe like home?"

Derek watched Stiles for a moment before turning to open up the bed. "I mean, it's something right? Even if it doesn't help us much... Maybe we'll be able to force more memories into happening?"

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe," he said, but he didn't sound convinced. He stood up to help Derek make the cot up for him. "I feel like maybe going back to that spot might prove more useful."

"It might, or it could do nothing for us," Derek murmured.

Stiles frowned. "I hate this," he said, staring down at the half made cot. "I can't remember anything important. I feel like I'm just nobody, not even a real person."

"That's not true," Derek replied, taking the blanket from Stiles' hand and finishing up the cot. "We'll get this figured out, I'm sure of it."

Stiles huffed and dropped onto the freshly made cot, staring at the ceiling. "Easy for you to say."

Derek sat on the edge of his bed, facing Stiles. "It is," Derek admitted with a small laugh. "Doesn't make it any less true."

"Am I going to have to meet the entire pack at dinner?" Stiles asked, changing the subject.

"Uh," Derek was clearly thinking. "Not really? Like, not everyone is usually at dinner, so it shouldn't be that bad. Plus, I doubt Mom will go into the details of what happened to you, so that should make it easier."

And almost as if on cue, they heard a voice shouting from the bottom of the stairs that dinner was ready.

"That's Laura," Derek said as they both stood up and made their way to the dining room. 

Stepping into the dining room of the Hale house was unlike any experience Stiles was sure he may have had before. It felt foreign, almost, the controlled chaos of a large family dinner that surrounded him. There were people moving around the table, finding seats, talking over each other to others across the room, a few trying to place food on the table, and thankfully no eyes on Stiles. Yet. 

Derek reached out to grab Stiles' arm, getting his attention and guiding him to a seat near one end of the table, before taking the seat beside him. He leaned in and spoke just loud enough to be heard by Stiles, "You're lucky, Uncle Peter isn't here today. He's the one who would've given you twenty questions before we even started eating."

Stiles looked around at all the unfamiliar faces, wondering if he knew any of them in his own life. He was sure that he'd never been invited to eat with Derek's family before, but that didn't mean he didn't know them. Slowly, everyone made their way to their seats, settling in around the table, a few curious faces looking over at Stiles, but not saying anything before returning to their conversations. When Talia came in carrying the main dish and placing it at the center of the table, all eyes were on her.

"I want to give thanks for our pack, for the friends and family that we call our own," she said, in what Stiles felt was a tradition for them. "May we all stay safe through moons both new and full. And may we remember to love and care for those outside of our pack as well as in."

There was a murmur of agreement among those seated at the table before Talia spoke again. "Derek's friend, Stiles, is staying with us for a few days. I expect everyone to do their best to make him feel welcome." She sat down at her seat at the head of the table, near Stiles and Derek, a man that resembled Derek sat at the far end. Stiles could feel those curious gazes on him, but everyone was too polite to say anything, something he was thankful for.

Once Talia helped herself to some food, everyone else dug in and everything but the food on their plates was quickly forgotten. The room was quiet for a long time, filled with only the sounds of forks scraping on plates and people eating. The only conversation was people asking to pass food. Eventually, though, Stiles knew what would happen. It was only a matter of who would start asking questions.

"So, how do you and Derek know each other?" A dark haired woman, only a few years older than he and Derek, spoke up. Stiles recognized her voice as the person who had shouted for them to come down to dinner, Derek's sister Laura.

Stiles felt a moment of panic hit him again, but was immediately relieved when Derek spoke up for him. "He goes to school with me," he lied pretty easily, reaching out to rest a hand at the small of Stiles' back, immediately calming his nerves.

"Why haven't I ever heard Derek talk about you?" Laura asked, pushing the matter.

"I was new this past year," Stiles replied, finding his voice. "We were just in a couple classes together."

Laura looked like she was about to ask something else, when Talia cleared her throat. "Laura, how is your class selection for the fall semester going?"

Stiles sent a thankful look to Talia as Laura's focus was officially steered away from him. Derek let his fingers slip from Stiles' back after a moment and dinner progressed easily enough after that. When everyone was finished, he and Derek helped clear the table before they could escape back to the relative privacy of Derek's room, away from prying questions and curious stares.

"Your family is huge," Stiles said as Derek closed the door behind them. "I'm pretty sure I have a small family. It felt weird to be around so many people at dinner like that."

They both walked across the room, settling onto Derek's bed without a thought. Stiles sat cross legged, facing Derek, looking down at the bottom hem of his jeans as his fingers played over the seams. "So what do you do normally?" He asked.

Derek shrugged, relaxing across from Stiles, leaning back on his elbows, feet dangling over the edge of the bed. "I play basketball and baseball during the school year. I don't really have any other extracurriculars, though. I spend any other time doing whatever might need done for the pack. Patrolling parts of our territory, going with Mom and Dad to meet with other packs, and the usual yardwork and housework. Stuff like that."

Stiles nodded, watching the way Derek stretched out on his bed, the lean lines of his body clear beneath his shirt. He tried not to be obvious about looking, but he was captivated, his gaze catching sight of a strip of skin visible where his shirt lifted on his stomach. Stiles bit his lip and looked away a moment, at the sports trophies on the one wall, recognizing the sports they represented now. "You must be pretty good," Stiles said, nodding toward the trophies.

"I'm all right," Derek said, with well practiced false modesty. "I can't say that my gift doesn't help, though."

Stiles smiled a little. It would make playing sports a little easier, being a werewolf. "It's almost an unfair advantage."

"Not really, there's almost always one or two werewolves on the opposing teams. Members of other packs and families," Derek explained and Stiles nodded. 

"Are there other packs in Beacon Hills?" Stiles asked, looking at Derek and wishing he knew if they knew each other or not.

"No, just ours. And our pack is almost completely my family. There's a couple people who we've accepted into our pack, but they don't hang around the house like my family does, they just visit for special occasions and holidays."

They spoke for a while, Stiles asking any questions he could think of, and making the best guesses he could about his own life. Stiles was able to figure out that he had played a sport. He wasn't sure which, but he narrowed it to something with a stick. Lacrosse maybe. Or hockey. Definitely not baseball, though. Eventually, they found themselves sitting closer together. They weren't quite touching, but Stiles could feel the intense body heat from Derek along his legs. Stiles yawned, stretching as he did, before glancing at the alarm clock on Derek's bedside. "It's late," he noted.

Derek followed Stiles' gaze and agreed. "Ready to sleep?" He asked, sitting up and yawning, himself.

"May as well try."

Derek got up and fished out a pair of basketball shorts and a clean tshirt from his drawer and tossed them at Stiles. "Sleep in that. There should be new toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom next door."

Stiles followed Derek's instructions and found himself in the family bathroom, changing into Derek's clothes and brushing his teeth with the new toothbrush. He washed his face and stared at himself in the mirror, searching his features for something that would trigger a memory. Circles under his eyes, moles dotted on his face, no scars that he could see. Nothing. He sighed and turned from the bathroom, turning out the light and carrying his clothes back with him to Derek's room.

Derek was already in his pajamas and had the beds ready. He disappeared to the bathroom to wash up for the night as Stiles left his clothes on the dresser and tried to settle onto the cot. The bed felt unfamiliar and wrong, somehow. He assumed that it had something to do with the whole transition to the past, the loss of his memory. But even after Derek had returned, turned the lights out and they murmured their goodnights in the dark, Stiles couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Something important.

He spent the better part of an hour, turning and tossing, adjusting the blankets and pillows, staring at the dark ceiling and the dark room. But still he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. And then a memory surfaced, just a glimpse, really. But his father - it had to be - showing up at a house, that Stiles just _knew_ was a friend's, with his pillow. _The_ pillow. The one that Stiles never slept without. Except now that pillow probably didn't even exist yet.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, his voice sounding loud in the dark.

Stiles sighed, feeling dumb for letting something so small as a pillow get in his way of sleep. "Nothing," he said at first before realizing that it did no good to hide anything from Derek, especially a new memory. "I just. I was feeling like something was missing, you know? Like I needed something to sleep. And then a memory hit me, of my dad bringing me a pillow to a sleepover. Like, that pillow was something I never went to sleep without anywhere." Stiles turned to face Derek, his eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark. "That sounds dumb, doesn't it?"

"It doesn't," Derek said. "It's a clue, though. You know what your father looks like now."

"I do," Stiles said, a small smile playing on his lips, only to replaced by a frown a moment later. "But that still doesn't solve the fact that I can't sleep right now."

"Come up here," Derek said after a long moment. Stiles could hear him shift over from where he had been sleeping, leaving space for Stiles in the bed. "I can help you fall asleep."

"Can you?" Stiles asked, his voice teasing.

Derek huffed an embarrassed laugh. "Not like that," he said, though it wasn't the most convincing response.

Stiles felt his stomach do a little bit of a flip as he stood up and climbed into Derek's bed, setting the pillow he had been using in the empty space Derek had left for him. He rested on his back, eyes on the ceiling again as he felt Derek turn onto his side, facing Stiles. "How are you going to help?" Stiles asked, turning to look at Derek, their eyes meeting.

"Like this," Derek said, reaching out a tentative hand to rest on Stiles' stomach. Stiles felt like his heart was skipping beats as he felt Derek's gentle touch, but he tried to remind himself that this wasn't anything but Derek trying to help him. And if Stiles were honest, he did. Within moments, Stiles felt the anxiety of sleeping without his pillow slip away, replaced with the warmth and comfort that sharing a bed with Derek had given him. And before he knew it, Stiles was asleep.

Stiles woke the next morning to light filtering in through Derek's windows and for a long moment he was confused as to where he was and who was curled up against him. He looked around the room, eyes catching on the glints of gold from Derek's trophies and suddenly the day before came back to him. At least his previous memory loss didn't affect his ability to create new memories.

Stiles moved to stretch, but the moment he did, Derek murmured and tightened the hold he had on Stiles' waist, holding him closer as he burrowed his face into the pillow. Stiles felt a warmth flood his body, more happiness than anything. It just felt _good_ to be close to someone, to feel like maybe he was wanted, if only in his subconscious. Stiles looked at Derek, not daring to move out of his arms. He was even more beautiful asleep, his thick lashes and dark brows, his hair mussed from sleep, his dark stubble a little thicker along his cheeks and jaw, but still clearly that of a teen. 

And that was when another memory surfaced. Of Stiles sitting beside a hospital bed, staring down at the same face he was just looking at, but older. His stubble had become a beard, but Stiles recognized the curve of his lips, the shape of his eyebrows. This was the face of someone Stiles cared about, that Stiles had worried about many times. But not someone that had ever returned Stiles' feelings. Stiles could feel the worry and longing that the memory contained and when he looked at Derek now, he could feel it as if it were _his_ Derek before him, the one he knew and cared for. 

Knowing this now, knowing how he really felt about Derek in his future made this even more difficult for Stiles. He was getting the closeness that he just knew he had always wanted with Derek, but it wasn't right. Stiles tried to move out of Derek's grasp but felt the arm tighten around him again and he made a sound of distress. That got Derek to relax his grip some and Stiles quickly sat up before Derek could change his mind.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, just breathing and doing his best to calm his mind without Derek's powers helping him. But eventually Derek did wake up and he reached out, resting a hand on Stiles' back, easing the anxious feeling that had made Stiles' stomach feel like it was tied in knots.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I remembered something else," Stiles said, his own voice soft, as if he were afraid to voice these thoughts aloud.

"What did you remember?" Derek asked, sitting up to sit by Stiles, his interest clearly piqued.

Stiles chewed on his lip a moment, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. When Derek didn't press for an answer, but began to slowly trace his fingers up along Stiles' spine, he finally spoke. 

"You."

Derek's fingers stilled for a moment before he spoke, obviously gathering his thoughts. "That's good isn't it?" He asked.

It was, Stiles thought, but it complicated things. What would happen if he told Derek about his feelings now? When (if?) he got back to the future, would Derek remember this? Would it change things? And if it did, would it be for the better?

"I-," Stiles started but stopped. He let out a breath before speaking again. "I think it is? But it means that I could complicate things even more if I get back. That whole butterfly effect thing, you know? Like, what if something I do now changes things completely when I get back?"

"I think you're overthinking things," Derek said, frowning. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"I hope not." Stiles looked around the room, taking in the space around him. The idea that somehow he had ended up spending his time with someone that he had already known unsettled him for some reason.

"What did you remember?" Derek asked again after giving Stiles a little bit more time to think.

"Watching you sleep," Stiles said, deciding to be honest. "You were in a hospital bed and I was worried about you. So I stayed up and watched you, to make sure you would be okay."

Derek watched Stiles, his eyes searching Stiles' face for answers Stiles wasn't sure he knew, let alone could give.

"It seemed like I did that a lot," Stiles continued. "Not watch you sleep," he added quickly. "But worried about you."

"Do you think we were in a relationship?" Derek asked, way more bluntly than Stiles was expecting.

Stiles shook his head immediately. "No," he said, trying not to let on that it was something he wanted, though it was possible that Derek had already surmised as much.

The two sat in silence for some time, lost in thought as the sun rose in the sky. Eventually Derek glanced over at his alarm clock and moved to get out of the bed. "Come on, we should see if Mom found anything new out."

Stiles followed Derek as they left the safety of his room behind and wandered down to the library where Talia was at work behind the desk, almost as if she had never left it.

"I see you've joined the land of the living," Talia teased as the two stepped into the room. "I didn't want to wake you, you both had a long day yesterday and I thought you may have needed the sleep." She slipped a bookmark into the book she had been reading and closed it, turning her full focus on Stiles. "So? How did the night go, did any new memories arise?"

Stiles nodded, stepping toward the desk. "Yes." He paused for a moment, trying to formulate his thoughts. "I remembered my father. He brought me a pillow to a sleepover I was at."

"Would you recognize him in a photo if I showed you one?" Talia asked, thumbing through a pile of printouts for a specific one.

"Definitely," Stiles agreed as Talia pulled one page out and handed it over to him.

Stiles took the print out and looked at the image on the page. He knew the face immediately, the man from the memory, his father. He was a little younger here, not as many lines on his face, the exhaustion that Stiles _knew_ usually graced his features was gone. "Deputy Stilinski, Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department," Stiles read the name aloud and another memory hit him and he looked up at Talia. "He's sheriff now," Stiles said, feeling a swoop of excitement flood his body. "I mean, when I came from..."

Talia smiled, seemingly pleased with the developments. "That's good, Stiles. Your memories are slowly returning. Is there anything else?"

Stiles looked up from the picture, reluctant to let go of the image of his father, a face almost as familiar as his own. "Yeah, one more thing," Stiles said, glancing back at Derek for support. Derek stepped up behind him, close but not quite touching. "I remembered Derek. I knew him - know him. We're friends... I think," Stiles said, sorting out the memory again. "He was sleeping in a hospital and I was there, keeping watch, I guess. I was worried about him. I worried about him a lot."

Talia had sat forward as Stiles spoke, this development seemingly more interesting than the others. "So your suspicions about knowing us were correct?" She asked.

"Just Derek," Stiles said, frowning as the thought hit him. He couldn't remember any of the other Hales he'd met in correlation with Derek. "I don't know if I've met you all or not. I just remember him."

"Hmm," Talia murmured. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything, though it is good to know that you're among friends. Rose has some information she'd gathered from Deaton and Marin," Talia continued, motioning toward another stack of printouts clipped together. "I'm still sorting through it, but the most logical thing I've found so far is something along the lines of a tear in the fabric of time itself, if that sounds plausible at all." She clearly wasn't certain about that, Stiles thought. "But if it were, these tears appear along the ley lines of the land, several of which run through Beacon Hills." 

"So do you think the same tear is in the space I came through?" Stiles asked, feeling a surge of excitement rush through him.

"It's possible," Talia said, pulling out the sheet with the information she sought. "But it's also possible that it's already disappeared and you'd have to find another, possibly further away. And again, this is all conjecture, but it's also possible that should you step through a different tear that it won't take you to when you want to go, but another time altogether. Years later or earlier. You could just as easily find yourself in the middle ages as in the distant future."

Stiles groaned with disappointment. While he appreciated Talia being honest with him, it wasn't something he had wanted to hear. He had wanted her to tell him that he'd be able to go right home and things would be back to normal. Whatever normal actually was. He still couldn't remember enough to say.

"I know," Talia said, sighing. "But it's the best chance we have to get you back to your time. I'm going to research things a little more, see what else Deaton and Marin can find. Maybe there's something we can do to manipulate any tear we find to produce the results we want. And if we can accomplish all that, we need to figure out a way to keep something like this from happening again."

"Thank you," Stiles said as Talia went back to her research. He turned and followed Derek out of the library and to the kitchen where they foraged for something to eat for breakfast. 

"Do you think we should go see if that tear is still there?" Stiles asked as they sat the counter, shoveling spoonfuls of cereal into their mouths. 

Derek swallowed and nodded. "And if it's not there, we should follow some of the ley lines through the area to see if any others have appeared."

"On my notes, it had mentioned anomalies," Stiles said, more to himself than anything. "I wonder what sort of anomalies I had meant. If it was something we can detect or like incidents that had happened." He let his thoughts wander as he ate, trying to sort out what else they could look for should the tear they were looking for was gone.

They finished their breakfast in silence and went back upstairs to get ready to head out into the preserve. With a shout that they were heading out, the two set out away from the house, along the path that Stiles had walked with Derek the day before. 

Stiles walked beside Derek, continually aware of just how close they stood together as they made their way through the woods. It was like they were drawn to each other, that the connection Stiles had felt in his memories was there despite the history they hadn't actually had together yet. A history that they were actually creating in this moment. One he didn't know yet, but that the Derek in his future likely did. Just the thought of it all made Stiles' head hurt. That what they were experiencing right now, those from his time would consider as already happened. It'd be just yesterday for him, but for Derek it would've been years ago. Stiles sighed. There was a reason people didn't normally discuss time travel theory. It was headache inducing.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, glancing over at Stiles. 

"Nothing really," Stiles said, shrugging. "It's just time travel and all the implications of it. It's complicated and problematic."

"What'd I tell you last night?" Derek chided Stiles. "You're overthinking it. Just worry about the problem at hand - getting you back to your time. Nothing else."

Stiles nodded, but wasn't convinced. They walked in silence together for a few more minutes before Derek came to a stop. "This is where I found you," he said, pointing to an empty clearing. In that space was a swirl of dead leaves, as if wind had whipped through the space, forcing the leaves in that pattern. At first, Stiles didn't see anything else to even hint that something had been there. But then as they walked closer, there seemed to be a shimmer in the air, a sort of distortion, like heat waves over pavement, like a sliver of the space before them wasn't quite what it seemed.

"Do you see that?" Stiles asked, pointing at what he saw, excitement at possibly going home again making his heart race. He stepped as close to the tear as he would dare go, afraid that it might suck him in or something similar.

Derek followed Stiles gaze and his eyes widened as they settled on the space Stiles had been pointing at. "Is that it?"

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip as he examined the space, walking a circle around it, trying to understand the space it took up as best he could. "I think so," he said. "There's one way to find out."

"No, don't!" Derek said, reaching out for Stiles as he moved toward the tear. His fingers wrapped firmly around Stiles' arm, holding him within reach.

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks at Derek's reaction and firm grip. He smiled over at him, "Relax. I'm not going anywhere yet." He bent down and picked up a large rock and held it up for Derek to see. "I had a better idea."

Derek let out an audible sigh and relaxed his grip on Stiles' arm, but he didn't let go. The way he held onto him made Stiles' stomach flutter. His touch was almost possessive, like he didn't want to lose Stiles to the tear. "Go ahead," he said, his voice a little less than sure.

Stiles hurled the rock at the tear, watching it pass through the center of it. He waited to hear the rock land in the leaves on the other side, but that sound never came. Instead, all he heard was the same sounds of the forest that had met him once his hearing had returned before. Birds and leaves and wind and the footsteps of Derek stepping closer to him. "That has to be it," Stiles said, looking at the tear in awe.

They spent some more time examining the area, throwing more things into the tear, taking note of anything else that they thought might be relevant, all the while talking with each other, learning as much as they could of each other before it was too late. Stiles still didn't remember much, but every so often a new memory came to light and he'd share it with Derek regardless of what it was. He found that when he didn't have much to remember, every memory felt like something to talk about. Even the first time his dad showed off a baby picture of him to a potential girlfriend. And with each memory Stiles shared, Derek would tell him something similar in turn. 

By the time they got back to the house, Stiles felt even more connected to Derek than before. He was starting to wonder if the Derek he was going back to would be anything like the Derek he was getting to know now. Equal parts cocky and bashful, funny and serious. He hoped he was because Stiles knew he was quickly falling for this Derek.

They found Talia in the kitchen, working on dinner. "How did the search go?" She asked at the sound of their footsteps in the kitchen, never turning from the stove.

"We found the tear," Derek said first, clearly eager to share their discovery. "It's still there and we think it still works."

"You think?" Talia asked, turning around to look at the pair.

"Yeah," Stiles cut in, wanting to talk. "We threw things at the tear, rocks, sticks, things like that. Everything that passed through the center of it never landed on the other side. They had to go somewhere and we think it's where I came from."

"I have some more information for you as well," Talia replied, reaching for a few pages she had on the counter beside her. She handed it to Stiles and Derek leaned in beside him to read with him. "You can read all the details, but essentially, this tear that you've found should-"

 

"Take me right back where I came from," Stiles cut in as the realization that this was going to happen dawned on him. He was going back to his time, to his family, his life.

"Yes, precisely," Talia said, turning back to her food on the stove. "From the lore, each tear is a doorway between two specific times. Once that time has passed, the door closes."

Stiles nodded as he read. "But I could still end up arriving back days or weeks later than when I left, depending on that time frame," he added, frowning at the thought of everyone in his life wondering what had happened to him. He wondered if there was a way to let them know that he would be back. Maybe Derek would remember this all and tell them.

"If it's okay with you, Stiles," Talia spoke up, drawing Stiles' attention to her. "I would prefer for us all to go together tomorrow, to make sure that you make it through okay."

Stiles glanced over at Derek and toward the large dining room table before turning back to Talia. "Who is "all"?"

Talia laughed. "Not everyone here. Just you, Derek, Marin, and I. I want to make sure you're safe and have someone who can oversee things to record them for our future pack and others to understand."

"That's fine," Stiles agreed. "As long as Derek is there."

He glanced back at Derek, their eyes meeting for a moment, making his heart skip. When Stiles looked back at Talia, he recognized a look of concern as it disappeared from her face, replaced with a warm smile. "Go wash up, dinner will be ready in ten," she said, sending the two away.

Dinner was a similar affair as the night before, though without the questions from Laura. Everyone seemed to just accept Stiles' presence at the table and he was welcomed into the conversation as if he had always been there. Stiles felt almost at home as the night went on, laughing with the family, listening to stories about Derek growing up. Things that made Derek blush deep red upon the telling.

When they had finally made their way back to Derek's room for the night, Stiles felt the best he had since Derek had found him on the ground in the forest. He fell onto Derek's bed, watching Derek close the door and turn off the ceiling light. A moment later a bedside lamp switched on and Derek climbed in beside Stiles, sitting cross legged beside him. Stiles shifted and rested his head on Derek's lap, unconcerned about the implications when he was feeling so happy. Derek looked down at him and the softness in his gaze made Stiles' chest ache. 

"I know we haven't really known each other that long," Derek said, making Stiles laugh. "Okay, fine. _I_ haven't known you that long. Clearly you've known me for years."

"There you go," Stiles said, a small smile playing on his lips, growing only wider when Derek's fingers found their way into his hair, moving gently along his scalp.

"I'm going to miss you," Derek finished, his voice barely a whisper. Stiles hated the way it made him feel, like he was letting Derek down by leaving. He knew deep inside that he never wanted to hurt Derek, in this time or his. Derek was important to him and someone he only wanted to make happy. 

"Hey," Stiles said, reaching up to cup Derek's cheek. "Look at me." When Derek raised his gaze to meet Stiles' he swallowed roughly. "I'm going to miss you too, okay? But just remember, you'll know me again soon. When we meet, it'll be like a blink of the eye and we'll be able to pick right back up from where we've left off. I promise."

Derek nodded, pressing his lips together as he took a deep breath. "I hope so."

Their conversation shifted after that, once more swapping stories and thoughts, small memories that found their way to Stiles. Eventually they found themselves curled up together on the bed, holding onto each other like they didn't want to let go, drifting easily into sleep. When they woke up the next morning, they were still holding on.

Derek woke first and Stiles learned what it was like to wake up to someone watching you intently. He smiled at Derek before shifting away from him, stretching. "Good morning."

"Morning," Derek murmured, sitting up beside Stiles. The two of them climbed from the bed and started readying themselves for the day, Stiles pulling on his old clothes. 

Before leaving the room Stiles stopped by the door and turned to Derek. "Listen," Stiles said, pressing a hand to Derek's chest to keep him from moving. "No matter what happens when I step through the tear, I want you know that I won't forget this. I won't forget you."

"Strong words coming from someone who lost his entire memory a couple days ago," Derek teased, but his heart wasn't in it. Derek rested a hand over Stiles', though, his eyes meeting Stiles'. "I won't forget you either."

When they reached the kitchen, they saw Talia and a woman who must be Marin sitting at the counter, deep in conversation over two cups of coffee. Talia turned to face the two at the sound of their footsteps. "Good morning, are you boys ready?"

"As ready as I can be," Stiles said, uncertainty clear in his words. 

"Don't worry, Stiles," Marin said, standing up from the stool. "I'm Marin. I'll be here to help you if you need it."

"Thanks," Stiles said, though her calm words did nothing to ease the worry he felt.

It didn't take long for the four of them to get ready to go and before Stiles knew what was happening, he and Derek were leading them out to the tear. The closer they got, the more anxious Stiles felt. At some point, though, Derek had reached out and slid a hand into Stiles', holding tightly. Stiles could feel the soothing wave that came from Derek's power and he was never more thankful for it than he was then.

When they got to the tear, Marin looked on in excitement, quickly making her way around the clearing, examining it. She started taking notes in her notebook as Talia looked on in quiet awe. Stiles felt a sense of dread encompass him. He was afraid and he knew Derek sensed it. Derek gave Stiles' hand a squeeze and turned to him.

"Stiles," Derek said, getting Stiles' attention. Stiles offered a tense smile, but otherwise didn't say anything. "You've got this. Don't worry. I'll see you when you get through to your time. It'll be okay, I promise."

"I thought I was the one giving comfort," Stiles teased, remembering the night before.

"I'm going to miss you, but you won't have to miss me," Derek reminded Stiles.

"I'll miss this you," Stiles said.

"I'll still be there somewhere."

"I hope so."

Talia stepped up to the pair, breaking her attention away from the tear. "Stiles, it's been a pleasure. I hope to see you again very soon." She reached out and pulled Stiles into a warm embrace. "Good luck," she whispered before letting go. 

"Stiles are you ready?" Marin asked, standing before the tear.

Stiles nodded, though without confidence. He turned back to Derek. "I'll see you soon," he said, a wavery smile on his face. Derek waved, his eyes wet with tears as he watched Stiles walk toward the tear.

Stiles looked at the tear and swallowed down his fear, stepping toward it. The closer he got, the more he felt the pull of it, drawing him in toward the center. With each step, the blinding light of the sun seemed to blot more and more of the landscape out, the sounds of the forest amplified toward that screaming that Stiles remembered from before. And as his senses were flooded with sound and light, his memories joined in.

Suddenly, he remembered everything, all that came before the tear, all that he knew and could have fixed. Stiles felt a rush of panic. He needed to warn Derek, but the process had already started. He needed to... "DEREK," Stiles shouted into the screaming winds. "DON'T TRUST KATE." He couldn't even hear his voice, but he had to hope that Derek had heard him. Had to hope that somehow, he had gotten through. Stiles' chest was tight with fear, that the warning hadn't made it, that he would return to a world without the Hale house. To a world without Talia.

Once more Stiles was surrounded by the white light of the tear, the only sound he could hear was the screaming of the winds, pushing every thought and fear from him until there was only the light and the sound. Stiles didn't know how long this went for, it could have been seconds or hours or even days. Time didn't exist in the tear. And then suddenly, just when Stiles began to think this was all he was ever going to know, it was gone.

Stiles blinked his eyes and looked around the forest surrounding him. He was alone, the sun was just reaching its peak. He moved to get up, but felt the weakness in his limbs and felt better of it. He rested on the ground for a while, waiting for his body to catch up to his mind, watching the sun as it started to descend. He wasn't sure all that had happened, maybe he had been mugged. Stiles checked his pockets and his wallet and phone were gone. He didn't know who would mug someone in the woods, but this _was_ Beacon Hills. Soon enough, Stiles felt as if he could make the walk back to civilization. The area was clear and there didn't seem to be anything where the anomaly had been marked. Maybe it really was nothing.

Stiles turned toward the road and took a few steps before stopping dead in his tracks. There on the ground was a crumpled piece of paper. He bent down to pick it up and opened it up. On the page was his familiar writing, the coordinates for this clearing and a note to himself. But beneath it was something he _knew_ wasn't on there when he had left for the clearing that morning. Scribbled in a hand that Stiles didn't recognize were the words, _I won't forget you._

It was like Stiles had taken a bullet to the chest. His breath came out in a ragged gasp as he took a step back, reading the words over again, the memories tied to them rushing back. Derek helping him through panic attacks, guiding him to the house. Talia caring for him and feeding him. Derek staying up late to talk to him, holding him as they slept, promising to remember him. Stiles screaming into the void, trying to save them all - to save Talia.

Stiles needed to know if they had heard him. He needed it more than anything. If he had been religious he'd be praying right then, begging his god to let them be alive. He gripped the paper and broke into a dead run toward the house, hoping against hope that it was still intact, that the burnt out shell that he remembered was only in his memory. He ran until his lungs burned, his legs ached, until he had to stop to breathe before running more. And just when he felt as if he had been running forever, he broke through the tree line, his eyes falling on the Hale house.

It was just how he had last seen it. Whole and well cared for. Everything that Stiles had dared wish for. He only hoped its family were as well.

Stiles ran the last of the way up the front porch and to the front door, knocking on the door impatiently. When nobody answered right away, Stiles tried the handle and pushed his way into the house.

"Derek!" Stiles called as he rushed inside, looking around, but seeing nobody. "DEREK!" He called again, hearing footsteps upstairs in response. He ran up the stairs and toward Derek's room, running square into him. "Oh my god!" Stiles gasped as strong, familiar arms wrapped around him to keep him from falling. Stiles looked up into Derek's face, his familiar features making him tear up. "The house," Stiles said, his breathing still ragged from the marathon he ran to the house.

Derek nodded, his arms relaxing on Stiles, hands settling on his arms. 

"Please tell me you heard me?" Stiles continued, needing confirmation. "Talia? Laura? Are they okay?"

"They are, and I did," Derek confirmed, a small smile playing on his lips.

Stiles stared up at Derek, almost in awe that he was there in his house, that Stiles had somehow managed to save Derek from the biggest tragedy of his life. "I got your letter," Stiles said after a moment, holding up the crumpled paper, Derek's handwriting still clear beneath Stiles', _I won't forget you_. "Did you?"

Derek shook his head and wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles in an unashamed embrace. "I've missed you so much," he whispered into Stiles' ear. 

Stiles threw his arms around Derek and held on for dear life. He never wanted to let go, as if he were afraid of losing him. "A blink of an eye, right?" Stiles teased.

"Right," Derek confirmed, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

When they pulled apart, Stiles couldn't stop himself from looking at Derek, from mapping every inch of his face, remembering how he looked when he was younger and comparing it to the Derek he'd always known. He was there still, the younger Derek, hidden behind laugh lines and a beard. His smile was the same, so were his eyes. He was Stiles' Derek.

Stiles pulled Derek in close, pressing his lips to Derek's in a kiss he'd been wanting to give him for as long as he could remember. Derek responded in kind, their lips slotting together perfectly, bodies pressing closer together as the kiss deepened. It was perfect, the wet slide of their tongues, the soft sounds of their voices mingling between breaths. It was everything Stiles could have dreamed and when Derek whispered as they broke apart, "That was worth the wait," Stiles couldn't have agreed more.

End.


End file.
